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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28780056">Sleep Tight For Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bateroo/pseuds/bat'>bat (bateroo)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Lost Boys (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Complete, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Inspired by Music</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2003-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2003-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:08:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,163</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28780056</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bateroo/pseuds/bat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>David remembers a lover and ponders faith. (Lyrics from Soundgarden's "Tighter &amp; Tighter".)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>David (Lost Boys)/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sleep Tight For Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <strong>Shadow face<br/>
Blowing smoke and talking wind</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>It's been years since I set foot in a church. You kind of loose touch with organized religion when you're the living dead, you know? Hell, I never was one for it when I was living either. Mom dragged my butt to mass many times, but eventually gave up. The old man was no help, being completely nonreligious and citing that God came after football.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>Lost my grip<br/>
Fell too far to start again</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>Mom was always afraid, the older I got, of what I'd read and was interested in. You know, every kid goes through that phase of exploring that which is considered evil and wrong. Funny, I don't think I've ever moved on.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>A sudden snake<br/>
Found my shape and tells the world</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>After becoming a vampire, a hedonistic life was pretty much all you had to choose from. Parental guidance became a thing of the past, and Max wasn't much of a role model, even if he played by moral rules in the human world. It was a plaster facade that no one but his own kind would see through. He was so far from the moral, upstanding citizen...</p><p>Of course, I can't say much. I'm the one who still has his spell books, his alchemist crap, and we had that fake black altar in the cave...</p><p>Eh. He's dead now. I'm sure he's enjoying the brimstone.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>Remember this<br/>
Remember everything is just black<br/>
Or burning sun</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>The opposites in my life... Nighttime: when I'm free and have no cares in the world, finding my next feast of blood, enjoying the hedonistic pleasures. Riding wildly on the wings of the darkness.</p><p>Daylight. Death. Fear. Sleep. I recall the smell of my own flesh burning in the hideously painful sunlight. Sometimes I will wake with the scent in my nostrils and scream, but it is only a memory.</p><p>Sometimes when that happens, I wish I had something to cling to.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>Warm and sweet<br/>
Swinging from a window ledge</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>I remember back, when I was still pretty young and was living in Max's place... There was a house not far up the gravel road, a pretty expensive place built on the side of one of the great hills in Santa Carla. The owner was some producer, was away a lot. Divorced. His daughter lived there mostly, alone with the housekeeper while her father stayed in Hollywood.</p><p>She was a sweet thing. True Californian girl, skin lightly kissed by the sun's rays and the blondest hair I'd ever seen. Burdened by heavy loneliness and rejection. I always blamed her father. He kept her there to attend the expensive all-girl Catholic school just outside town.</p><p>Max allowed me to strike up a friendship with her. I was still pretty unstable in those days. We never officially dated; her father's reach from Hollywood was still strong enough to forbid her to date until 16. Being the good Catholic girl she was, it was never challenged.</p><p>Luckily, Jen and I were both suckers for forbidden romances.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>Tight and deep<br/>
One last sin before I'm dead</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>I remember the last night of her life ever so clearly. We spent it in the grand master bedroom, with the curtains thrown back and the glorious expanse of the Pacific in front of the bed. The moon casting a heavy glow on our skin. I was such a horrible tease, until she gave it up to me.<br/>
The feeling of her is something I regard as one of my most fond memories.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>A sucking holy wind<br/>
Will take me from this bed tonight</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>I'm not sure she realized how deeply I had bitten her until her life started to fade. Perhaps she thought it was some deviant sexual fetish I had, and the bad girl in her wanted to find out more.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>And blow the wits</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>Her blood was so pure and delicious; it knocked me for a loop. Never had blood been this memorizing to me. I was only allowed a bit of Max's blood each day, so no other taste had passed my lips. I was startled by my own surprise and it showed to her.</p><p>By then, most of it was drained from her sweet body into my cold dead corpse.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>Another hits me and I have to say goodbye</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>Never having ever had a victim before, I stayed with her until she passed on. Sometimes I wish I hadn't. She accepted her fate, what I had done to her with such a grace. I cried. I cried so much it was pathetic. And there she was, 15 and ending her life before it had even started. She thanked me for the pleasure, kissed me and fell into death.</p><p>Of course, she forgave me for what I'd done. That cut to the quick of my heart. It didn't cross my mind till later that I could have saved her, made her into a vampire. But I was still a stupid punk kid.</p><p>I still regret it.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>And I hope it's a sweet ride<br/>
Here for me tonight</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>So here I am, in the little Catholic church about four blocks down from the Boardwalk. It's pretty empty at this time of night, and the priest is regarding me with a wary eye. I'm not going to give him much reason to kick me out. I'm here for a purpose I should have fulfilled twenty-five years earlier.</p><p>I kept Jen's rosary in a velvet box. It used to hang on the headboard, but I took it the night she died as a keepsake. A piece of artwork in itself. Hand cut rose quartz beads, with accent beads in twenty-four karat gold. I'd had it appraised several years back by a pawnshop, in a moment of foolishness. No one had bought it, thankfully, when I realized my stupidity and gone back to reclaim it.</p><p>I walked towards the table full of candles, each flickering and sending up the prayers of the lighter towards God. The pious face of the hand painted statue of mother Mary smiling down at me. I squirmed. My mind was blank and no thoughts would come.</p><p>I picked up a candle from the box and lit a candle for Jen, placing it amongst the others. A small wooden box asked for donations beside the table and I crammed in a five-dollar bill. Jen was worth more then a dumb quarter donation. The rosary removed from its velvet case, I repeated what prayers I could remember under my breath, still feeling the benevolent eyes of Mary boring into my skull.</p><p>I paused, deciding it was time to set Jen free from my memories. I slipped the rosary over the outstretched hand of the Mary statue, winked at her ever-open eyes and returned back to the night.</p><p>
  <em></em>
  <strong>Cause I feel I'm going<br/>
Feel I'm slowing down</strong>
</p><p>I like to think I made some peace with God that night. Rest well, Jen.</p>
  </div></div>
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